


After a Long Day

by rivendellrose



Series: Remember This Moment [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Companionable Snark, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Hair Brushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: After an away mission gone wrong, Philippa and Michael have a bit of flirty relaxation.





	After a Long Day

"You look like hell, Captain."

Philippa gave a tired snort as she keyed in the entry code to her quarters and gestured Michael ahead of her. "I thought Vulcans didn't believe in hell."

"It's an idiomatic phrase." Michael smiled. "Or at least so someone told me."

"Someone should have been more careful when she gave you ideas about what kind of language was appropriate to use around your captain when she's had a rough week." Philippa sat down on the sofa, then dropped her head back against the cushions. "Fortunately, I'm too exhausted to be annoyed at my past self for teaching you bad habits."

Michael programmed the replicator for tea, watching Philippa out of the corner of her eye. She'd favored her right leg all the way back from the medbay, so the painkillers the doctor had given her hadn't kicked in yet, and she was flexing her right hand like it was still bothering her. In the morning she would probably also regret that she'd dropped onto that sofa without taking off that muddy uniform and taking a shower to get the dirt and mud out of her hair. "I really was a smug pain back then, wasn't I?" 

"Yes." Philippa smiled, her eyes still closed. "But even then I knew you'd grow up into a formidable officer if you were given the chance. And a very interesting woman, as well, if you could be convinced that pretending to be more Vulcan than even most Vulcans wasn't necessarily the best personal choice for you to pursue. Of course, I didn't realize then how stubborn you could be... If I'd known that it would be a full two years before you admitted that emotions weren't just something that happened to other people, I might have reconsidered my generous offer to take you on."

"Hmm." Michael carried over a steaming pot of tea and two cups, and set them on the coffee table. "Was it worth the patience?"

"Is that jasmine that I smell?"

"Yes."

"Then it was worth it." Philippa sat up and stretched, then winced and pressed a questing hand against the back of her neck. "Unlike our last away mission. I'm going to be sore for a week, regardless of what Dr. Biswas said." She paused, then pulled a thorny twig out of her hair. "And my hair may never recover."

"Where's your brush?"

"On the counter in the bathroom, the same as always."

Michael shook her head. "'The same as always.' When last week I found it in the bedroom, and yesterday it was on the coffee table."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Philippa announced as Michael returned carrying the hairbrush.

"That's fine. Sit forward."

"Insubordination, however -- that's a talent you've had ever since the day I met you."

Michael watched her impassively, brush raised and waiting, until Philippa followed her instructions. She began to brush carefully from the bottom up, getting out all the small tangles there before working through those closer to Philippa's scalp. "If you don't like it, you know--"

"Mm. I'll live." Philippa closed her eyes again, cupping her tea between both hands and letting the steam bathe her face. "Don't stop."

The sight and sensation of the brush passing through waves of silky black hair had become a physical mantra for Michael over their time together. "I won't. Not until it's done, at least."

"Hmm. And what did you have in mind then?"

With an effort, Michael disregarded the low purr creeping into Philippa's voice. "You should take a shower."

"I'd be insulted, if I wasn't entirely aware how filthy I am right now. Still--"

"You'll regret it if you get into bed without getting the grime off. And your muscles are already tightening up," Michael reminded her, pressing a gentle hand to the back of her neck.

"You could help with that..."

"I could." It was tempting. There was a jar of massage oil in the top drawer of the bedside table, and some of the most pleasant nights of Michael’s life had begun with one of them slowly working the knots out of the other’s back or shoulders. "After the shower."

Philippa twisted around and kissed her. "How about during."

"I wonder if part of why Starfleet generally recommends against romantic relationships between captains and first officers is because they're aware of how inclined their captains are to bossing and imposition?"

"I wonder if part of it is because they're aware of how smug and superior first officers are?"

Michael gave in to the distraction and kissed her back, then retreated. "Finish your tea. Then we'll shower. Then I'll finish brushing out your hair--"

"It'll be easier to finish when it's wet, anyway," Philippa murmured as she guided them to their feet, disregarding the tea and pressing kisses down Michael's jaw and neck.

"--And then we'll go to bed. Once you're clean and detangled."

"Such impetuous sensuality," Philippa teased.

"I know I'm the one who'll be dealing with the knots in the morning, if we don't."

"Oh, fine." As she walked them backwards toward the shower, Philippa paused to press Michael up against the wall and kiss her thoroughly. "Vulcan practicality wins over Human enthusiasm yet again, I suppose. Just don't let it go to your head, Number One."


End file.
